


Kisses

by Kat_Greenleaf



Series: Comforts (of Steve Rogers, The) [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Forehead Kisses, Kisses, Multi, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, as always, bucky's a lil shit, comfort through kisses, french kisses, nat is going to actually murder clint one day, natasha is sneaky, oh boy there's romance in this one, thor is an accomplice, touch-starved Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21678415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Greenleaf/pseuds/Kat_Greenleaf
Summary: After the events of Hugs, Natasha and the others discover that Steve is pretty kissable -- and Steve likes it, too.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Avengers Team, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Series: Comforts (of Steve Rogers, The) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562785
Comments: 20
Kudos: 77





	1. Forehead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha joins a "private" moment between Tony and Steve, and she just can't help herself.

To say that Natasha was proud of Steve was an understatement. He had come so far in his willingness to ask for help, and it was even starting to rub off on the rest of the team. Affection was, for the amusement of the term, running rampant. Everyone was easier with touches and affection, and it was really something amazing for her.

The common room of the Tower had become a hot spot for people who needed some extra attention. More often, Natasha would walk in to find Bruce in the easy chair with Wanda perched on the arm, or with Sam or Thor on the couch across from him. James also spent a lot of time there, usually waiting for Natasha, but he’d also found an unusual friend in Rhodey, who would just sit with him sometimes. They would sit shoulder-to-shoulder, sometimes talking and sometimes not, but it always seemed to help James. Natasha, herself, would sometimes perch in her chair, waiting to see if anyone would come to sit with her. Sometimes Tony would come to meet her, and so would James, once in a while. Most often it was Steve, who would stand behind the chair and braid her hair. She didn’t always talk to him, but he always listened intently when she did. 

She really loved what their space had become. It was nice to live in a place where comfort was almost guaranteed if someone needed it. Tony had even let JARVIS in on it, writing him a couple new lines of code to help him determine intent of their visit to the common lounge. The AI would let one or two of the other Tower residents who were close to the person know if there was something going on. More often than not, JARVIS made the correct judgements, and he was still learning.

Natasha had returned very early that morning from a mission in the Pacific, de-briefed and given orders to rest. She had showered and was dozing in her room. Post-debrief was her favorite part of a mission, getting to return to a place where she knew she was safe and cared for, and getting to spend a little time catching up on sleep she had missed while she was away. However, in the middle of her nap, JARVIS spoke up.

“Ms. Romanoff?”

It took her a moment, but she responded, face still squashed against her pillow, “Yes, JARVIS?”

“Captain Rogers is in the main lounge, and I believe he might benefit from your presence.”

Natasha opened her eyes to check the clock on her nightstand. It wasn’t quite breakfast time yet. She sighed, but couldn’t deny the soft part of her that wanted to make sure Steve was okay. She nodded, “Okay, JARVIS, thank you.”

“Thank you, Ms. Romanoff.”

The AI was then silent, and Natasha squeezed her eyes closed for just one more moment. When she opened them again, the clock read almost half an hour later, and she swore softly, yawning right after. She pushed herself up off the bed and pulled on a hoodie and sleep pants before heading out of her bedroom towards the elevator. Likely, he would still be there, and as she pressed the button for the common floor, she hoped JARVIS would move the elevator a little faster. 

When the elevator doors opened into the room, Natasha was a little surprised to see Tony already there. He and Steve were curled up together on the couch, lying down with Steve’s head resting against Tony’s shoulder. The younger man looked almost asleep, and hadn’t noticed when Natasha walked in. Tony was also dozing, and either hadn’t noticed her or didn’t care, because he didn’t look up at her. Instead, he looked down at Steve, a small smile hesitantly making its way onto his face. He pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead, and chuckled softly when Steve sighed and further tucked his face against Tony’s chest. 

It was stupidly adorable, and Natasha had to hold back a smile as she moved closer. Her steps were silent, as always, but she kept her movements slow. She didn’t want to disturb Steve. Tony visibly noticed her then, looking up as she reached the opposite end of the couch. As she knelt beside him, he turned his head just a little to look at her, gently smirking. 

“Did I beat you to him?” he asked, voice little more than a whisper. 

Natasha huffed a breath, hiding her slight embarrassment at falling back asleep when Steve needed her, “I think I’m just in time.” Tony raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question her. 

She reached out, and gently brushed Steve’s hair back and away from his face. He made a small noise, but didn’t wake. Natasha smiled and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his brow. Another noise rumbled in Steve’s chest and he seemed to relax further against Tony’s chest. Natasha tilted her head up and shared a smile with Tony.

“Did he say anything?”

Steve was more predictable than some of the others. He generally didn’t like to talk about what was bothering him. But if he was going to open up to anyone, it was usually Tony. 

But Tony shook his head, “No. It was probably nightmares, seeing how late - early? - it is. But he didn’t want to talk about it.”

That was very likely. Steve’s nightmares were further in-between than they used to be, but the ones he had were always terrible, leaving him unable to fall back asleep. It helped him to have someone nearby, and that would explain why he was able to sleep now, nestled close in Tony’s arms. Natasha reached out again to gently pet Steve’s hair. He groaned low and leaned into the touch, face squishing against Tony’s chest at a weird angle. Tony and Natasha both laughed quietly, and Tony carefully moved the younger man’s head to make him more comfortable.

Natasha smiled and leaned over to kiss Steve’s forehead, reveling a little too much in the pleased hum he made. She glanced at Tony and then pulled a blanket off the back of the couch, shaking it out and laying it over the boys. She passed her fingers through Steve’s hair one more time and gave Tony’s shoulder a squeeze. 

“You gonna be okay with him?” she asked, softly. 

Tony nodded and smiled gratefully up at her, “I think we’ll be okay.” He smirked, “And I think we’ve found another way of calming him down.” He chuckled, and Natasha smiled. 

“I guess you’re not wrong.” She ruffled Tony’s hair and headed for the elevator, glancing back as the doors opened. “Call me if you need me.”

The doors closed as Tony nodded, and Natasha headed back upstairs to catch up on her sleep.

*

Steve was starting to feel suspicious. After the night he and Tony had spent sleeping on the couch, Natasha had been acting weirdly. Well, she was acting pretty normal, by most people’s standards. But he noticed other small things. The first couple of days, whenever he walked into a room where he heard her voice, she would pause almost imperceptibly -- almost -- and then start talking to the other person again, about something that sounded like a new topic. He couldn’t call her out on it, but he paid attention. 

The weird secrecy went away after a couple of days, but then _everyone_ was acting a little different. The was getting new looks from several of his teammates, and Natasha was much more willing to perch on the counter next to him while he cooked, or on the arm of the couch, or maybe right on his lap. 

It was totally unexpected, the first time she perched on the couch next to him. Steve was flipping through channels on the television, trying to find something not depressing, when she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead, totally unprompted. His hand stilled on the remote, and he blinked a couple of times. But by the time he looked up to ask her what the hell she was thinking, she was already walking out of the room. 

Steve raised a hand to his forehead, touching the spot she had just kissed. 

“Huh…” he murmured, feeling heat rise in his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to LBibliophile for their amazing comments on Hugs that inspired me to get to work on this!


	2. Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve spars with Thor and gets a little more than he bargained for.

Steve expected the kisses from Natasha, now. He still tended to blush a little, but he was confident that it would fade with time -- probably. What he wasn’t sure would fade was this new thing she had started. The kisses on the forehead were fine, of course, and he couldn’t imagine trying to stop her. It was just that the habit seemed to be spreading to his other teammates. The looks they had been giving him turned into actions. 

The Tower’s sparring roster had been moved around and manipulated several times as the team tried to get it right. So far in regards to Steve’s pairings, Natasha and James had switched groups, and then switched back again, and then made their own duo. Steve didn’t mind sparring with Thor on his own, but he did miss the unique challenges that Natasha presented them with. 

He was considering this as he ducked, weaved, and leaped around the ring to avoid Thor’s strikes. He could feel his cheeks getting warmer, and he decided that it was just from the physical exertion, not anything he was preoccupied with. Thor’s fist connected with Steve’s shoulder and sent him sprawling. In a moment, Steve was on his feet again, using Thor’s confidence from the blow, the possibility of his guard being lowered, to get in close, getting in two jabs to the demigod’s abdomen. It pushed Thor back a little bit, but he just threw his head back and laughed, loud and boisterous. 

“Finally! I thought you would evade me this whole round, Steven,” Thor said, now taking up a defensive position. 

Steve smirked and mirrored his stance, focusing intently on the moment and trying not to let his mind wander, “Just waiting for you to prove you can actually hit me.”

Thor’s answering chuckle was deep, and almost predatory; a challenge. Steve steadied himself, and then leapt into action. The two of them traded blows and kicks, and maneuvered around each other for what seemed like hours. Steve was grinning almost the whole time. These were the kinds of sparring sessions he loved, where it seemed like an endless flow of give and take, of motion. It was times like this, when he sparred with someone who was truly a match for him, that he felt unstoppable. 

Steve still tired easier than Thor did, but he felt strong enough that they could have continued for several more minutes. Except, another thought entered his brain: Natasha would be so proud of them, seeing how fast and agile they were becoming. Another burst of heat flooded his cheeks, and he hesitated as his fist headed for Thor. The punch landed wrong, and it gave Thor the tiny opening he needed. 

Being pinned down to the mat was something Steve was becoming very familiar with, and he was usually either much more chagrined or delighted. This time, he was just glad to have a place to keep his head down, face away from Thor as he heat dissipated from his cheeks. He was frustrated that he’d even had that reaction to begin with. What was wrong with him all the sudden? Thor let him up easily, and a little quicker that Steve would have preferred. But he stood, keeping himself turned away as he stretched out his arms. 

“You’re distracted today,” Thor said, softly. 

Steve tensed, still not turning to face him, “I dunno what you mean. You always knock me on my ass.” He tried to force a laugh, but Thor didn’t return the sentiment. He walked around Steve to face him. 

“You are acting differently, today," Thor insisted. He gave Steve a once-over, eyes concerned. Nothing was wrong with Steve physically, but the heat in his cheeks returned as Thor looked at him so intently. The concern in Thor’s eyes started to relax, until he noticed Steve’s flush. The demigod frowned, concern returning at full-force. It disappeared just as quickly and Thor let out a low chuckle, starting to smile, mirth swimming in his eyes. 

Steve felt himself blush deeper, “What?”

“You are flushed, Steven,” Thor reminded him, gently. “Are you thinking of someone, perhaps? You’ve had this look about you, lately.” Thor was smirking, now, the mirth in his eyes stronger. 

The flush on Steve’s cheeks spread to his ears, knowing that whatever he said, he was caught. “I… It’s no big deal. It’ll pass.” He was sure that that wasn’t what Natasha meant when she kissed his forehead. 

Thor hummed and simply reached for Steve’s hand, gently holding it. He brought it to his lips and gently pressed a kiss to Steve’s slightly-bruised knuckles. Steve other hand quickly slapped over his own mouth, holding back an embarrassing sound and attempting to hide his deepening blush. Thor just smiled and pressed another gentle kiss to the tender skin. 

“If you insist.” Thor lowered Steve’s hand, releasing him. He smiled, gently, “This session went quite well, I think. I look forward to next week.”

Thor slipped out of the ring and over to his gym bag, leaving Steve to cover his face with his hands and wonder what the hell he was getting himself into this time.


	3. Eskimo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to work out how he feels about the kissing, and James "helps".

After a week or so, Steve took a weekend to hide away on his floor, just trying to figure out what was going on with his friends. He curled up on the couch with his sketchpad, JARVIS playing music quietly around him. Natasha still kissed his forehead, and now many of their other teammates were getting comfortable pressing kisses to his hands and cheeks, once in a while a gentle peck to his lips when they were feeling especially affectionate. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, but it was certainly confusing. He didn’t really know how it had started. 

But for now, he decided he didn’t want to think too hard about it. He did a couple warm up sketches. Partway through his warm up, he realized that he’d drawn several pairs of lips, some looking uncomfortably familiar. A blush broke out on his cheeks and Steve flipped the page, ending his warm up and starting on a couple figures. He’d seen his teammates spar enough times to configure a small scene. The first body he positioned roughly in a defensive position, and then next was up in the air, coming in on the offensive with a kick. 

Steve stared at the rough positions for a moment, and then decided to start with the figure in the air. He started to carefully fill out the outside lines, positioning the legs and arms just right. He solidified the outside lines further, giving the whole body more definition, and then let his focus drift to the face. He didn’t think too hard about it, just letting his hand work. The facial features were tentative at first, slowly forming into soft lines. The jaw was gently curved, and the nose was round. The lips were plump and soft, but the eyes were sharp and focused. Curls gently framed the whole face, flying cross the forehead and curling under the jaw. 

“You gonna show ‘er when y’done?” a voice asked. 

Steve startled and slammed his book shut, head snapping up to meet James’ eyes over the back of the couch. He blinked hard, “What?”

James looked pointedly at the closed sketchbook. “You’re drawin’ Tasha,” he said softly, raising an eyebrow. 

Slowly, Steve lifted the pages of the sketchbook just enough to see the face he was just working on. Sure enough, he realized, it was Natasha. He’d seen her strike from above so many times, he reasoned. That’s why it was her. No other reason. He felt his cheeks warm up again, and he closed the sketchbook, crossing his arms and staring at his knees, avoiding James’ gaze.

“I dunno what you mean.”

James huffed and waved his arm, a signal to JARVIS to turn off the music. He walked around the couch and sat in the other corner, mirroring Steve’s curled-up position. “You okay, punk?”

Steve couldn’t help the twitch his mouth made at the nickname. He wanted to grin every time James used it, but that always made James scowl in return. He held back and answered simply, “I’m fine, jerk.”

“You never were good at lyin’,” James sighed. “Are you okay? You been hidin’ in here all weekend…”

These were just the sort of questions Steve was hoping to avoid. He and B- James were getting more comfortable around each other, but it was still difficult for them sometimes. He wasn’t expecting this kind of interrogation from James. 

Steve shook his head, “‘M fine. It’s really nothing.” At James’ raised eyebrow, he continued, “Not like it usually is. I’m just… a little confused about something.”

“About Tasha.” It wasn’t a question. 

Sighing, Steve set his sketchbook aside. “It’s not a big deal,” he insisted. “She’s just… acting weird lately.”

That only made James chuckle, “You mean all the kissin’ stuff?”

Steve felt his cheeks start to flush, but there was no point denying it. “Y… Yeah. I don’t know what to do about it.”

A rare smile crossed James’ expression, “Just let it happen.” 

There was a retort on the tip of Steve’s tongue, but he swallowed it down as James leaned forward into his space. He did not touch Steve at all at first, he hardly ever would. But he scooted closer, and James’ knees rested in between Steve’s feet where they were planted on the couch cushion. Steve’s brows began to draw together, confused at James’ sudden boldness. But looking up to meet his eyes, Steve’s eyebrows raised slightly, eyes widening. James’ face was closer to Steve’s than Steve could ever remember. He swallowed hard, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. James laughed softly. 

“Tasha was right,” he said, softly. “You blush real easy, Stevie.”

The blush spread to the tips of Steve’s ears, and he scowled, looking away. “Don’ make fun’a me…” he muttered. James’ hand rested on top of Steve’s, a silent apology that James had been using lately. Steve sighed. “I… I don’ know why she’s doin’ it,” he murmured, voice softening. He looked back up at James. “I’m not used to it.”

“At least she ain’t smoochin’ you straight on the mouth every time,” James answered, chuckling a little awkwardly.

Steve huffed and gave James’ right shoulder a little shove, “Jerk.”

James smiled a little and leaned in, “Punk.” He brushed their noses together, causing new heat to burst in Steve’s cheeks, but he couldn’t help but lean into the touch just a little. James was so reserved with his touches, and Steve couldn’t help being thankful that he was willing to get so close. 

Their foreheads barely brushed as James moved his head, rubbing their noses together once, twice before pulling back. His cheeks were slightly pink, but he was smiling, a gentle quirk of his lips. It made Steve smile, though he kept his lips pressed together so that he didn’t grin outright. James huffed and rolled his eyes a little, sitting back as his smile grew a fraction. 

“That any better, punk?”

Steve laughed just a little and ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck to release some of his pent-up nervous energy. “I mean… not really.” He looked back up at James, “I mean, comin’ from you. But… Yeah, a little.”

With an amused huff, James stood, reaching over to ruffle Steve’s hair. “Good. I’m gonna tell Tasha she doesn’t hafta stop.”

“Buck!” Steve huffed. “That’s not fair!”

But James just kept walking down the hall to his room, laughing until he closed his door behind him. Steve huffed and rolled his eyes, moving to lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He turned his head to the side, eyes landing on the sketchbook that still laid on the coffee table. For several moments, all he did was stare, heat burning in his cheeks and something fluttering around in his belly. He reached for the book, opening it to the sketch. It was for sure Natasha on the page, and the other figure, Steve realized, had started to take on his own shape. 

Steve groaned and tossed the book aside again, rubbing his hands over his face. What the hell was he going to do?


	4. French

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Steve go on a mission... with Clint.

It seemed like Steve was getting used to the kissing stuff, but if Clint was honest, and of course he always was, he was a little over it. Natasha and Steve were dancing around each other now, and it was driving him crazy. Everyone else seemed to be in support of it. Clint was too, don’t get him wrong, but it just wasn’t something he was used to seeing from Natasha. He liked to think he knew her pretty well, but this was all new. 

Now, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tease the shit out of her over it -- Steve, too. Especially when Fury asked the three of them to head to Europe for an undercover mission. Watching Steve’s face take on a pink-ish tinge during the briefing had been hilarious. When Clint saw Natasha notice the blush, smiling a little to herself, he knew he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to mess with them a little. Of course he agreed to go along. 

“You finally gonna tell Steve?” he’d asked her, later that evening at the practice range. 

“Tell Steve what?” Natasha replied, eyes never wavering from her target as she tested the new bites Tony had made her. 

“That you totally like him. Duh.”

A shot flew past his ear, effectively shutting Clint up about it for that evening. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to let it go. He grinned, prepared to wait until she couldn’t do anything about his teasing.

Standing at the bar in the middle of a nightclub in Spain in order to catch the lowlife they were following was pretty par for the course, in Clint’s experience. Natasha was in the middle of the dance floor, dancing and grinding and flirting. All on par. Steve was standing with Clint at the bar, leaning against the counter with a drink and trying to look like he belonged. Instead, he looked wildly unnatural and uncomfortable. His movements were too choreographed, his postured too staged. There was one other thing that was really getting on Clint’s nerves. Steve’s eyes only rested on one of three places: his drink, the target on the other side of the dance floor, or Natasha. Mostly, he was watching Natasha, and it seemed like the target was starting to notice Steve looking between her and him. Clint could see that the man was starting to pay more attention to Natasha, who had to make more of an effort to look like she wasn’t paying attention to him. 

Clint sighed, “Steve.” Steve’s head whipped around to look at Clint, the movement way too sharp for anyone who was drinking in a sleazy bar. Clint sighed again. “Buddy, stop starin’. He catching on.” 

Steve frowned a little, head starting to turn back to Natasha. His jaw clenched, a tell that he was stressing harder, and Clint reached up to grab his chin, halting the movement. Steve’s eyes widened, but he swallowed and forced his face to relax a little, taking the hint. 

“Sorry,” he sighed, eyes turning down to look at his drink. “I’m just… worried.”

Clint didn’t move his hand away, brushing his thumb over Steve’s jaw, just to watch him blush. He could feel Natasha’s eyes on them. “Worried about Nat?”

Steve’s blush darkened, and Clint couldn’t help but laugh, making Steve frown and pull out of his grip. “Worried about the mission,” he grumbled, glancing back at the target and then to his drink, making a point not to look at Natasha while he knew Clint was looking. “There’s so many people, what if we can’t get through to him? What if we can’t track him again?” He frowned harder, but Clint didn’t think he realized he was doing it. “What if some guy gets too handsy with Natasha and she gets hurt because she won’t blow her cover? Or what if she does blow our cover and he’s alerted and runs? What-”

“You _are_ worried about Nat!” Clint hissed, giddily. “I knew it!”

Steve outright scowled, not bothering to raise his head as his eyes flicked up to make eye contact with Clint, “Shuddup.”

Clint laughed, stealing Steve’s drink and taking a swig from the bottle. “Listen. Nat’s too good for that. We’ll be fine. And there’s no way we’ll lose this guy. We’ve got all the info we need on him.”

Steve’s frown smoothed out, but the worry in his face stayed as his eyes flicked back to the target, and then to Natasha, his head turning. “We haven’t found where he’s staying yet. We need to track him back, we can’t lose him…”

Gently, Clint turned Steve’s head back to face him. He set the bottle on the counter. “I know you don’t usually do spy missions with us, but I swear, it’ll be okay.” He slung an arm around Steve’s shoulder and hugged him close to his side, kissing his temple. He felt some of the tension leave Steve’s posture, and smiled a little, glad that it could help even a little. 

When Clint looked over at Natasha, he noticed that she had narrowed her eyes at him, and he grinned, teasing her just a little. She looked away, focusing back on her dance partner. Was that a faint blush on her cheek? He didn’t get much of a chance to think about it, because Steve gently elbowed his ribs. 

“He’s staring,” Steve murmured. 

Sure enough, when Clint looked up, the target was staring at him and Steve. But that wasn’t recognition in his eyes. Clint leaned over and kissed Steve’s cheek. He ignored Steve’s blush and sputtering, watching the target frown, lips curling into a sneer. Clint almost couldn’t hold back a grin. 

“We may not have to follow him at all… Steve, do you trust me?”

“Um, yeah?” He looked confused, but that was okay. 

Slowly, so that Steve could catch on, Clint cupped Steve’s cheeks, pulling him close. He held eye contact, smiling a little the moment he saw the lightbulb go on in Steve’s mind. “Make it believable,” Clint murmured, right before pressing his lips to Steve’s. 

Out of the corner of his eye, right before he closed them, Clint could see the target stand from his table. Bigotry hadn’t been in his file, per se, but Clint supposed he should have guessed. Steve’s hand found Clint’s hip, and Clint hummed approvingly as Steve squeezed just slightly, once. That was their group signal, one tap or squeeze meant “O.K.” Clint pressed a little closer, feeling Natasha’s eyes join the target’s, probably scowling just as hard. He parted his lips just enough for Steve to get the hit, and Steve, to his credit, just trusted Clint and followed along, letting Clint slip in a little bit of tongue. Clint’s hands slipped from Steve’s face to hold his shoulders, pushing him back against the bar a little. Steve squeezed once again, and then got a little braver, deepening their kiss, tongue swiping in and curling with Clint’s.

Clint could actually feel his own cheeks heating up, and then an accented voice interrupted them, “Could you stop? Please take that somewhere else. It's disgusting.”

Steve quickly pulled away, blushing fiercely and looking away, down at the bar counter. But Clint met the target’s hateful gaze and stuck his chin out, “Why do you care? I’m not making out with you.”

The target’s eyes narrowed, his sneer growing. “Fuck you.”

“That’s what I have him for,” Clint answered, tipping his head at Steve, making his eyes widen.

“Clint!” Steve hissed.

The man pulled his hand back, as if to throw a punch, but Natasha materialized next to them, grabbing the target’s wrist and spinning to use his momentum and pin him against the bar, arm twisted behind his back. He cried out, but Steve and Clint were quick to help Natasha drag him out the back. Clint looked up and tipped his head to the bartender, another undercover SHIELD agent. 

They managed to get him into the alley and to a waiting SHIELD van that would drive him to SHIELD’s underground makeshift base in the next town or so over. They would stay in town another couple nights, as to not raise suspicions. Clint pretended to dust his hands off as the van drove away. He smirked at Natasha and Steve, just taking in their expressions. Steve was still blushing, frowning after the van, probably just to have something to look at. Natasha was glaring right at Clint, arms crossed and a light pink just barely visible on her cheeks. Clint grinned right back at her. 

“Jealous?”

She glared harder, eyebrows drawing together in a slight frown, and Steve’s blush darkened again. Clint couldn’t help but laugh at that. The poor guy just couldn’t catch a break. 

“Don’t worry, Nat, he’s pretty good. A fast learner, too.”

He had no time to process before she kicked his legs out from under him, catching him as he fell and dragging him into a choke hold.

“I swear to god, I will kill you in your sleep,” she growled into his ear, ignoring Steve’s pleas and touches trying to get her to let go. 

Clint just grinned. They were so gone.


	5. Single-Lip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha decides to overcome her own nervousness, and assuage Steve's, taking the leap of faith.

Natasha wasn’t naive. She may not have been experienced in love, but she knew enough to know that her relationship with Steve was morphing into something that wasn’t exactly platonic. Starting the kisses had just been something more to show Steve how much he was cared for, especially after she noticed him asking for hugs less and less. That would have been a good thing, but as everyone realized it was a good thing for them all to share, it was obvious that Steve felt like he was losing something special. Therefore: kisses. 

The blushing had been a surprise, though, and not a bad one. It was cute, almost touching that he reacted like that. She had become far too eager to try and replicate the blush at every chance, and Steve had indulged her every single time. It started to make her want to kiss other parts of his face, where the blush bloomed high on his cheekbones, where it burned the tips of his ears… Where he bit his lip with embarrassment. But she held back. Natasha and Steve were good friends, and she wasn’t going to push him away by doing something out of bounds. 

Clint saw through her act and started to tease her about it. It wasn’t unexpected, though still annoying. What did surprise her was that he teased Steve, too. Relentlessly. Steve blushed every time he was teased, too. Often when she and Clint were together now, he would ask her when she was finally going to admit to Steve that she liked him, because he was sure that Steve liked her back. Then, he started making out with Steve in that bar in Spain, right in front of her. Now, he wouldn’t stop telling her that she was missing out, that Steve was actually a pretty good kisser and she should give him the chance to prove it to her himself. Clint had recently taken to wearing long sleeved shirts around the tower to hide the bruises forming on his biceps. 

That didn’t mean that what he was saying didn’t make sense to Natasha, though. There was a part of her that really wanted to tell Steve, but the rest of her was content to keep it her own little secret. She was used to keeping secrets, so what was one more? Wasn’t it better to maintain the good relationship they already had, rather than risk it all on some gut feeling?

“You’ll never know unless you try,” Clint murmured to her once after a mission, when he caught her staring at Steve. “He won’t hate you, you know.”

Natasha did know. But somehow, that didn’t stop her worry. It didn’t stop her from being around Steve, either. She wasn’t going to shy away from him or stop kissing him on the forehead when he needed it just because she couldn’t get rid of a crush. 

*

Nights after group missions were mandatory movie nights. After the first several times of everyone retreating to lick their wounds, it was actually Tony who forced everyone into the den, where the comfy couches and bean-bags and recliners were. He put in Cinderella -- “Yes, Rodgers and Hammerstein, what are we, animals? Julie Andrews is a queen, and the music is great. Disney could ne-ver!” -- and made everyone just relax and watch, arms tight around Steve the whole time. It had evolved since then. Bruce and Natasha claimed the bean bags. Thor usually took up one of the recliners. Steve and Tony often occupied one of the loveseats, and Clint tended to perch wherever he wanted. Since the team had expanded, the others filled in wherever they felt comfortable. Pietro and Wanda sometimes took up another loveseat, or curled up with Logan on the couch. Otherwise, Scott and Hope were on the couch, with Sam on the other end. James sat on the floor next to Natasha, where he felt comfortable. When Peter joined them sometimes, he made his own little web-hammock and demanded that he be allowed to borrow pillows from the couch. 

Tonight, they were watching Shrek, at Peter’s insistence. Tony half-heartedly argued against it, but Wanda and Pietro joined in, and JARVIS took the liberty of pulling up the film anyways. 

Natasha didn’t mind the movie, so she easily settled into her beanbag, holding her own bag of popcorn. Peter was already making his hanging nest of webs and pillows, and the twins were curling up on the loveseat. Tony sat on the opposite loveseat, waiting for Steve’s arrival. Bruce had begged off the movie to sleep, which was more acceptable after missions where he Hulked out. Some of the others weren’t in the Tower for various reasons, so they weren’t there. James shuffled into the room, surveying the occupants before deciding to perch in the other beanbag. 

Steve walked in with Clint, Clint’s arm around Steve’s shoulder as he whispered something into the taller man’s ear. Steve flushed and Clint laughed, so Natasha had a pretty good idea of what they were talking about. Clint stole the recliner, and Steve took up his usual spot with Tony. Everyone waited a few more minutes, soft chatter filling the room until it seemed like no one else would be joining them. The movie started, and Natasha was having a good time just watching.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and Natasha kept down her shiver. She kept her eyes on the movie for several more moments before finally turning her head slightly. She glanced back, and could see Steve’s face. Her eyes flicked quickly back to the screen, as if she’d never moved, but her cheeks felt warm. Steve was looking at her, not the film. She let another few minutes pass, and then subtly checked again. Steve was watching the movie again, or at least appeared to be. But it pleased her to note that his cheeks were pink. 

It was then that she could feel another set of eyes on her, and this time, she turned her head fully, in the other direction, to look at James, who stared right back. Neither of them moved right away, but then a grin slowly spread across James’ lips, his eyebrow sliding up suggestively. Natasha frowned and kicked his shin before looking back at the movie screen, scowling. She’d had enough from Clint, she didn’t need James butting in, either. Most everyone turned to look at them, her kick unsubtle. She heard Clint laugh, and decided that she was definitely going to get him back later. She heard Tony talking softly behind her, though she couldn’t quite make out the words, and when Steve replied, it was just as soft, if a little more strained. Something about that gave her a little hope, a little courage. 

The movie ended, with the usual loud sing-along noise from the teenagers and the man-children. Natasha stayed in her seat as the others filed out. James stayed with her for a few minutes, until she looked over at him, eyebrow raised. He huffed, rolling his eyes and standing. He looked at the loveseat, and she could tell by the way his eyebrow raised that he was looking at Steve, probably having a silent conversation. He left the room, smirking. 

“What was that all about?”

Natasha rolled her eyes at Tony’s question, and it was enough to make her turn around, leveling an unimpressed stare at him. She couldn’t help notice the flush on Steve’s cheeks, adorably deeper than it was earlier. Tony stared back at her, and James walked back into the room. He frowned at the men on the loveseat, and in a show of his recent bravery with the whole team, he grabbed Tony’s arm to haul him off the loveseat and pulled him out the door. 

“Read the room,” he grumbled, in response to Tony’s babbling protests. 

The door closed behind them, and the room went silent. Steve was sitting upright on the loveseat now, hands folded in his lap. Natasha moved up onto the cushion next to him, keeping a little distance between them, not wanting to scare him off. It was obvious to her how nervous he was, hands clasped in his lap, cheeks red, gaze on his knees. It was endearing. There was a moment of silence between them, which was slightly awkward. Natasha wasn’t quite sure what to say to Steve, but he surprised her by breaking the silence first. 

“You stayed behind,” he observed. “You usually leave with Clint or, um, James.” She knew he was still having trouble not saying, “Bucky”. Despite knowing how James felt about it, she couldn’t help thinking it was a little adorable. 

“I didn’t want to be with them,” she answered, simply. Steve looked up at her, eyes wide as he tried to keep the rest of his expression under control. Natasha couldn’t help a small smile. “Are you objecting?” 

Steve took a breath as if to answer, but only managed to shake his head. All at once, his courage seemed to leave him and he looked away again, his arms folding over his chest and his head ducking. He swallowed once, and then again a couple moments later. “Are you… I saw you go down out there.” His voice was stronger. Natasha knew it was always easier for Steve to talk about work than his feelings. “Are you okay? I didn’t see you limping, but I wanted to make sure. ‘Cause you don’t have to hide anything with us, y’know, if you’re hurting….”

It would be easy to be let down. But Natasha would not be deterred tonight. Steve’s rambling was telling enough anyway. He wanted it to, she thought, but he was too nervous.

So Natasha pulled together her own courage and reached up to grip Steve’s chin, immediately halting his speech - and his train of thought if the surprise on his face was any indicator. She smiled gently and cupped his cheek, letting her thumb brush over his cheekbone. “Steve, I’m fine.” 

His mouth shut with an audible click at the firm answer. He nodded and averted his eyes. “That- That’s good.” He cleared his throat and his arms dropped, his hands clasping tightly in his lap. “Good.”

Natasha didn’t hold back her laugh, giving a soft chuckle at his awkwardness. She wondered if he was this cute before the army. She hoped so. Slowly, she brushed her thumb over his cheekbone again. “You’re adorable, you know?”

Steve’s eyes flicked up to hers, and his jaw dropped a little, his lips parting softly in a way Natasha thought should be illegal. She could feel his cheeks heat under her palm. “W-What?”

She shook her head, a smile breaking out on her face before she could decide against it. She leaned closer, their noses brushing, “You’re adorable.”

His lips parted further, brow pulling together like he wanted to argue, but she didn’t give him the chance. Natasha leaned forward and kissed Steve. 

Natasha almost found herself laughing again, because while Steve’s lips had been parted before, his jaw seemed to drop more as she kissed him, making it difficult to kiss him properly. She captured his top lip between both of hers, keeping her eyes lightly closed until Steve’s brain stopped short-circuiting. Slowly, his bottom lip pressed against hers, but it felt more like a reflex than anything. Natasha pulled back from the kiss, wondering briefly if she had gone too far, but quickly banished the idea, a small laugh bubbling out of her. Steve’s lips were parted again, but his eyes were wide and dilated, his face flushed and his ears bright red. Natasha shifted to her knees, getting herself a little higher than Steve. She cupped his cheeks as he looked up at her, eyes full of hope and adoration. Her heart was full to bursting as he looked at her like that, she suddenly couldn’t bear to look anymore. It was too much. 

She leaned in again, and this time, Steve met her, his hands curling gently around her elbows. He let her lead, and didn’t push her for more or pull her closer. Natasha pulled back, chest feeling tight as Steve’s head tipped forward, trying to follow her, before he pulled back quickly, ducking his chin to his chest. He bit his lip, his flush spreading down his neck. Natasha took a deep breath, and she felt her anxiety flow out of her, letting her chest loosen. She pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead and stood from the loveseat, keeping one hand on his cheek. 

“Goodnight, Steve.”

He was giving her that look again, hopeful, and she felt her belly swoop. “Goodnight, Natasha.”

She brushed her thumb over his cheek once last time before walking out of the room, feeling for the first time in years like she might skip down the hall to the elevator. 


End file.
